Coffee Shop of Time
by CWprodigy
Summary: "Perhaps time does change things." They both know it's a lie. Ciel is still the child with misplaced pride trying to come to terms with the hand he's been dealt, and he himself is still searching for laughs in a cruel and heartless world all while running from the only true happiness he's ever had. Modern AU. Undertaker/Ciel/Sebastian threesome


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"Must you wear that?" he asks purposely sounding more annoyed than he actually feels while sipping his tea. It's cheap and mass produced but he supposes it's doing a good job of warming him. He glances out the window, watches the snow fall uninhibited, covering the buildings and the sidewalks. The thick clouds block out the dusk that otherwise would've cast the streets in its amber cloak. It would've been beautiful if he didn't have so much on his mind.

"I apologize that my attire is not up to the Earl's standards," the man replies, voice its usual jovialness but with the smallest sprinkling of biting sarcasm. He knows he's drawing attention from the other coffee shop patrons but he couldn't care less. His black three inch heels click across the floor as he draws closer.

"Do not address me in such a manner," Ciel says as if insulted. He averts his eyes, and continues to watch the snowfall. "I haven't been worthy of that title for some time now."

Undertaker pulls out his chair, wincing as it scrapes against the floor. Once seated, he notices another mug of tea steaming innocently. The raise of the eyebrow that follows is lost by the silver fringe that covers his eyes. His black cloak billows around him as he settles himself more comfortably in his chair.

"For me?" he croons, pulling the steaming mug closer, long, black nails clicking against the thick ceramic. He smiles indulgently over the rim. "How very thoughtful," he says, then adds cautiously. "Perhaps time does change things."

They both know it's a lie. Ciel is still the child with misplaced pride trying to come to terms with the hand he's been dealt, and he himself is still searching for laughs in a cruel and heartless world all while running from the only true happiness he's ever had. They both know it, yet they allow themselves to bask in the possibility of it being truth as other customers chatter noisily around them.

"Perhaps…" Ciel muses, voice still heavy laden with an English accent despite the fact that he's resided in different parts of America for centuries and probably would continue to do so. "But not all things, of course." He takes a small sip of his tea then frowns at the taste. Undertaker chuckles, not his usual loud guffaws and Ciel would like to think that he's restraining himself for his benefit and not because the man before him could've really changed that much over the years.

"Not as good as Sebastian's I assume," The older man says knowingly, smiling in a way he would never admit is strained. They are being too cordial, as if they're just old friends catching up in some out-of-the-way coffee shop in New York and nothing more. It feels synthetic and materialistic, cheap.

The once-Earl allows a sliver of a smirk to grace his young features though it doesn't meet his pink irises.

"Assume?" His tone is falsely playful and just a smidge accusatory as he pushes the cup of Earl Grey away with moderate distaste. "You've experienced Sebastian's creations just as much, if not more than me."

Undertaker nods, he can see the memories so clearly. Those late nights in warm kitchens, watching as Sebastian made his creations. Their roles would melt away, no longer servant, master, and mortician. These thoughts warm him yet he bristles, an uncharacteristic frown tugging at his mouth as he peers into his own mug and sees his murky reflection. An all too familiar feeling of guilt is creeping up on him again.

It's getting later, the crowd is thinning out. The workers relax a bit, reclining against the counters and sharing weekend plans. Ciel glances up at the other man, head cocked in confusion at the sudden bout of melancholy.

"Why did you ask me here, Ciel?" Undertaker peers up at him, pushing aside his long silvery strands so that his bright eyes are visible. The scar running like a train track across his face hasn't faded nor has his beauty. Ciel still finds himself in awe at the sight of his eyes.

"Ciel…" Undertaker prods gently, smile forming despite himself. Ciel truly was a beautiful boy, porcelain skin, midnight blue hair, soft plump lips coming together in a look of thought. He's grown, aged; able to manipulate his demon form into someone who appears to be in his early twenties. But the retired shinigami can still see the brash and brave boy who'd storm into his shop unannounced and demand information. He misses that boy more than he cares to admit most days.

The demon sighs, brushes back his own bangs and suddenly looks very uncomfortable. "I asked you here because I wanted answers."

It's a response the mortician had been dreading yet knew it would come. He'd been running from the inquiries from so long. He was in New Orleans now, still running a funeral parlor, and trying to ignore that little piece of him that's missing.

"Ask away." He makes a swooping gesture with his hand, rapidly cooling tea long forgotten. His heart begins to beat rapidly in his ribcage as Ciel looks down to gather his thoughts.

"I have so many…" The demon began, fingers absently tucking hair behind his ear. His nails are black now, Undertaker notes, most likely Sebastian's influence. He's dressed for this century, black jeans and converse, dark blue sweater, hair nearly past his ears.

"But for starters, why did you leave the way you did? You just left, not telling Sebastian and me where you were going or why and to this day we still don't understand it. Weren't we worth at least a damn explanation?"

His jaw is set in anger, pink eyes ablaze, fists clenching on the table top. Undertaker flinches at the sharp tone and frowns at the tears pricking the smaller man's eyes. He wants nothing more than to embrace him, stroke his hair, try to take the hurt away, the hurt he was responsible for.

"You disappeared! Did you ever stop to think how it made us feel? How much that…hurt?" Talking about such trivial things as emotions had never been his strong suit and this may have been the first time he openly discussed his pain. He feels raw and stinging, headache beginning to hover over his temples.

"Oh kitten…"

"Don't call me that!" Ciel rebuffs him, angrily scrubbing his sleeve across his face, voice cracking as he spoke. "You have no right. You left us, you…" He wipes his face again, skin turning pink with his agitation. "Bastard."

He gets up, knocking down his chair which falls to the polished floor with a loud clang. Undertaker seizes his sleeve as he nearly brushes past him. Ciel stiffens.

"I never meant to hurt you," Undertaker says quietly, voice low and sad as he looks earnestly at his former lover's distraught profile. He can feel tears building just behind his own eyes. "You or Sebastian. I just couldn't stay. I would've ended up hurting you even more than I already had. I didn't deserve you both."

"That was not for you to decide," Ciel says just as softly, hitch present as he speaks. He raises his chin proudly, even as the tears fall. "Now unhand me."

"Ciel please…"

The demon collects himself, eyes puffy and red. "This was a mistake." His eyes dull in resignation and he is deaf to Undertaker's pleas. "Sebastian and I miss you and I thought…" He shakes his head in self-disgust.

"I suppose I never learn do I?" A bitter smile is placed crookedly on his face as he turns away from Undertaker and walks from the coffee shop, into the blizzard.

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A/N: This is my first Black Butler fic so please be gentle. So what do you think? I intended for this to be a one-shot but it might be a multi-chapter fic if you'd like. Please review!


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